Carnival of Souls
by mockingjade
Summary: Hermione has been fighting the Dark Lord for five painful years with no end in sight. Order members are dropping like flies around her, and when The Boy Who Lived sends her a cryptic summons, the last thing she expects is to have Draco Malfoy defect from the winning side to join the Undesirables. Inspired by the song "Far From Home" by Five Finger Death Punch. Dramione AU.
1. Communication

**Chapter One – Correspondence**

They buried Hannah Abbott in the dying rays of the sun on a lonely, windswept hill somewhere in Scotland. Hermione Granger watched the quiet ceremony from the back of the group, her eyes burning, but unable to cry. Hannah had been a good friend, a good fighter.

Once the simple funeral had concluded, the group dispersed throughout their small campsite, silent, solemn, and sorrowing, to avoid the harsh truth they weren't ready to deal with. Unfortunately, Hermione was now required to address this very truth. She made her way to the tent that she shared with Luna Lovegood, Parvati Patil, Alicia Spinnet, and—until the day before—Hannah Abbott. With a glance around her quarters, she buried her face in her hands and forced herself to concentrate.

Slowly, steadily, they were dying. Within six or eight months, Hermione figured, they—the resistance—would be extinct. She let out a slow breath, struggling to accept that fact.

It had been five long years since the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; five years of strife, bloodshed, and pain. The past three of those years, Hermione had spent living on the run, hiding from Death Eaters and Snatchers, and attempting to aid The Chosen One in his quest to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes. Unfortunately, after the fall of the Ministry of Magic to the Dark Lord, more and more people had found themselves classified as "undesirables" by the new regime, and rallied around The Boy Who Lived. Within a matter of months, the remaining members of Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix had joined the Golden Trio, until their group swelled to include almost three-dozen insurgents. Although it was heartening to know that they weren't alone, they had swiftly realized that attempting to keep thirty or so people hidden and perpetually on the move was nigh impossible. Thus, the young wizard had decided almost a year ago to split his small army into three groups, which was how Hermione had come to be one of the leaders.

Hermione's eyes burned once again, but she knew that there would be no tears. She hadn't cried in a year or so, and sometimes she wondered if she ever would again. She viewed crying as similar to innocence—just another casualty of the war.

With a sigh, the young witch got to her feet and shook her head slightly to focus. Next to her bed laid the beaded handbag she had equipped with an Undetectable Extension Charm, which she opened. With a concentrated thought, she summoned a particular piece of parchment, which she smoothed out before her and stared at for a moment before reaching for a quill and beginning to write.

_Snuffles –  
I'm afraid that we lost another one yesterday. There was a very dangerous venture into a village in attempt to gain information, and the Snatchers there were vicious. The member in question was a Badger; one who had difficulties before the O.W.L.'s back in fifth year. She will be missed.  
I don't think I need to point out that our numbers are slowly dwindling, my friend. We must hurry to complete the goal we have set ourselves. This lifestyle is taking its toll on us all, I fear, and morale is quite low at the moment.  
We are still working on finding the information you've requested, and you know me well enough to know that I'll keep searching for it, despite the present troubles. Give my best to the Keeper, when you next hear from him, and as always, keep me informed of your own goings-on.  
Much love,  
The Lioness_

When finished, Hermione sat back to reread her note, making sure that there was nothing in there that could instigate herself or any of her associates. When satisfied, she tapped the parchment with her wand and set it aside, knowing that her best male friend (who had donned the code name "Snuffles" in honor of his beloved godfather) would be able to read it immediately, due to the advanced Protean Charm Hermione had cast onto the rolls of parchment before the three of them had split their forces.

She hoped he would pick up on the hint about hurrying up to find the remaining horcruxes. Obviously, it wouldn't be easy; in the past three years, they had only managed to destroy one of the remaining shards of Tom Riddle's soul, leaving four (Hufflepuff's Cup, Ravenclaw's artifact, the Dark Lord's pet snake, Nagini, and whatever the seventh and final horcrux was) left. Hermione was in charge of somehow researching Rowena Ravenclaw and finding out what object of hers could have been used by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as a container for part of his soul.

Hermione was surprised out of her reverie by the note she had just written disappearing from the parchment, and being replaced by the familiar scrawl of The Boy Who Lived. She grabbed the paper eagerly to see what he had to say.

_Lioness –  
I am very sorry to hear of the loss of our friend. I will pass the news along to her ex-housemates as soon as they return.  
Do you remember the events preceding our fourth year of school? There was quite a ruckus made, if you know what I mean. If you could arrange to move your party to that location within a week, there is news that I must share with you and the Keeper as soon as possible. Having read your note, I agree with you that my group suffers low spirits as well, and I think that bringing all members of our particular society together for a little while will serve as a decent morale-booster.  
Best of luck in all of your endeavors, and I'll look for you around the full moon in the place I mentioned.  
Cheers,  
Snuffles_

Finished reading, Hermione frowned and bit down on her lower lip. Was he serious? Didn't he know the risks involved in clustering thirty assorted members of the Order of the Phoenix together for an extended period of time? Hadn't he learned last time?

Hermione glanced up at the clock on the wall. Dinner would be served in half an hour. She would take his information to the mess tent and hope that her deputies were around to discuss it with. She stretched as she got to her feet, and ran a hand absently through her untamed brown curls before exiting the tent.

* * *

Arthur Weasley sat at one of the tables in the mess tent with his son, Charlie. A few others were scattered around the tent, dealing with the loss of a comrade in whatever way they could. Before joining the two redheads, Hermione glanced around the room to see if Luna was nearby. She wasn't.

"Dean," Hermione said, approaching her old Gryffendor housemate, who was nearest, "can you please go find Luna and send her to me?"

The tall black boy nodded solemnly. "Sure thing, Hermione," he assented before leaving the tent. As soon as he was gone, Hermione made her way to where the Weasleys sat and took a seat next to Charlie. He nodded at her as she did, but continued talking to his father, "—Yaxley's been trouble all along. He's the one who Imperiused Thicknesse in the first place, and now he's got it out for us all."

"So Yaxley was the one who killed Hannah?" asked Arthur, furrowing his brow.

"I think so, but they didn't take their masks off this time," Charlie admitted glumly. "It sounded like him, though." Taking a deep breath, Charlie turned toward Hermione. "Did you need something, Boss?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the mode of address, but otherwise let it lie. "I've just been in contact with The Boy Who Lived," she whispered. They had discovered the hard way a few months ago that not only had the Dark Lord put a taboo on his own self-made name, but also one on his greatest enemy's. They had learned since then to be careful when discussing her best friend. "I'll give you the details when Luna's joined us."

As if on cue, Hermione's airy blonde schoolmate joined them, slipping into the chair next to Arthur. "Hullo, Hermione."

"Hi, Luna," the older witch replied, "I was just talking about how I've been in contact with The Boy Who Lived."

Luna gazed at Hermione with her eerie eyes, and said nothing. Hermione was used to Luna's odd behavior by now, and pressed on with her news. "He wants us to move the sect to where the Quidditch World Cup was held five years ago. He says that there's something important that he needs to tell us. I think he wants Ron to bring his group in, too." She paused and licked her lips, giving the others a chance to speak up if they had anything to say. Evidently they didn't. "He told me to be there within a week. What do you think?"

Arthur took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt; Hermione knew by know that was what the older man did whenever he was thinking. "Is there any way that you can verify that it was actually The Chosen One that you spoke with?"

Hermione shook her head and began chewing on her lip again. "No. It's entirely possible that it was an imposter, although I really don't believe that's very likely." She drew a breath before continuing. "Personally, I think that we should go. If it were really him, then I know that he wouldn't ask it lightly. He knows something, and he thinks it's important enough to share with us in person."

"Are you willing to put all of us at risk, though?" came Arthur's answer.

"I think we should go," interjected Luna dreamily. "Didn't we all join the DA and the Order to help him?"

Arthur fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, and Hermione raised her eyebrows, impressed once again by Luna's discerning gift of speaking the truth.

"Why don't we run it past the camp?" Charlie suggested smoothly. "This isn't a dictatorship, after all. We can tell everyone what's going on, and if they're willing to chance it, then we can try it. If not, then Hermione and I can go."

The others considered it. "Sounds good to me," Hermione said after a few moments, as Arthur nodded his assent.

"I want to go with," Luna piped up. The other three turned to stare at her. "If Hermione and Charlie go, then I'm going with," she insisted.

Hermione looked at the younger girl as though seeing her for the first time. Luna—although still inclined to be whimsical and outlandish—had changed during the war. Hermione supposed that it was inevitable; war changed everyone. _War; the hell where youth and laughter go_, she thought suddenly. It was a quote she had heard somewhere before, a Muggle quote, but it fit the situation perfectly. Luna herself was example of that; the Ravenclaw had shown herself to be an exceptional fighter, and despite her bouts of absent-mindedness, she was a great help to Hermione when it came to making sure things ran smoothly amongst the ten-odd wizards and witches comprising their pod. The knowledge that Luna had lost the innocence of her school days struck a chord of sorrow somewhere deep within Hermione, and she felt her eyes burning with phantom tears once again.

"If you're sure, Luna," Arthur was saying, jerking Hermione back to reality. "But we should still see if everyone else is in favor."

Hermione nodded and got to her feet. "I'll do it," she said firmly, knowing that it was almost time for supper, and that everyone would be migrating into the mess tent within a few moments.

Sure enough, when everyone had settled into the mess hall and received a plate of food, Hermione stood up and cleared her throat loudly. The talking ceased and everyone turned in her direction. The sick, empty feeling from Hannah's funeral reappeared in her stomach when she realized that only ten people remained in her sect: Luna, Arthur, and Charlie, her most trusted officers; Dean Thomas, Alicia Spinnet, Lee Jordan, and Parvati Patil, her Gryffendor housemates from school; Anthony Goldstein and Mandy Brocklehurst, both Ravenclaws who had been in her year at school, and of course, herself. She gulped and closed her eyes for a moment before addressing her fellow insurgents.

"Before we eat, I have some news," she announced calmly. "I've been in contact with our Champion, and he requests that we pack up and move to where the Quidditch World Cup was held five years ago." She took a deep breath and looked around the tent, locking eyes with each person as she did so. "There's no way to verify whether this really is from The Boy Who Lived, or if it's just an impersonation. We've already discussed it," she added, motioning to the Weasleys and Luna, "and have decided to put this matter to vote. If the majority wants to risk going to see what The Chosen One has to say, then we will. If not, then Luna, Charlie and myself will go, and Arthur will lead you guys in changing locations. Either way, it's time for us to move. We've been sitting here for two weeks; it's not safe to remain here.

"I'll let you all think about it while we eat, and we'll vote afterwards." With that, she sat down and dug into her rationed out food.

* * *

_**Notes: **__the quote Hermione thinks of is from the poem "Suicide in the Trenches" by Siegfried Sassoon, a renowned poet/soldier from World War One._


	2. Reunion

**Chapter Two – Reunion**

The outcast lifestyle didn't suit The Boy Who Lived, not at all. Hermione was amazed to see how much he had changed in the past year; he was gaunt, pale, and quite scruffy. His hair fell almost to his shoulders, and sported quite a bit of stubble on the bottom half of his face. Ron was much the same, except he had somehow managed to keep himself clean-shaven. Hermione was almost afraid to know how she appeared to her two best friends. The thought made her chastise herself. _There's a war going on, you dolt! Focus on what's important!_

Still mentally reprimanding herself, she held up her wand warily at the two boys. "What was the first thing I said to you when we met?"

"You asked me if I'd seen Neville's toad, because he'd lost it," 'Snuffles' answered. Satisfied, Hermione turned her wand to ex-boyfriend. "In fifth year, I refused to speak to you for a day because you said the hats I had knit for the house-elves looked like what?"

"Wooly bladders," Ron said without a trace of hesitation. "And I stand by it, they were—" but Hermione, ecstatic to see her boys again, had thrown herself at the two of them in an enveloping hug.

"Wait!" yelled the hero of the group, "we have to make sure you're you, Hermione!"

With a huff, she disentangled herself from her two friends for a moment. "Hurry up and ask, then," she growled, causing the dark-haired wizard's face to twitch in amusement. "What was the spell used by one of us three to knock out the troll on Halloween of our first year?"

She rolled her eyes. "Pur-_lease_. Ron used _Wingardium Leviosa_, causing its club to levitate and then fall back onto its head, but after you had jumped it from behind and shoved your wand up its nose. Happy?"

"Yes," he assented, and the three of them dissolved into an undignified embrace once again.

Hermione's sect had voted (almost unanimously) to take the risk to visit The Chosen One and his followers. The rest of the group was currently safely ensconced in the main area of their campsite, friends and family reunited for a short while; catching up and sharing stories. There had (miraculously) been no mishaps in moving the groups to the abandoned Quidditch World Cup site, and the three young leaders, deciding that they should get the important news aired immediately, had wandered a ways away from the main encampment to find a place to talk.

"Alright, Snuffles," Ron started once they had calmed down. "What's this all about? What's so important that we had to move our groups halfway across the country to talk?"

The Boy Who Lived faced them seriously for a moment and then ran his hand through his hair, a move Hermione knew meant that he was uncomfortable. "I talked to Snape."

Hermione couldn't contain the gasp of surprise that escape her lips. _Snape?_ The turncoat of the war and Dumbledore's murderer? What on earth was The Chosen One doing talking to **_him_**? Her best friend knew what she was thinking, and he held up a hand placatingly. "Please, just hear me out first." He drew a deep breath and looked her in the eyes as he began his explanation.

"We recently risked a trip to Godric's Hollow. I know it was extremely dangerous," he said quickly, before either of his friends could interject, "but I had to do it. I _had_ to see the place my parents are buried. I had to see where it had all happened . . .

"Anyway, there was a band of Death Eaters waiting for us there. He must've known I'd visit sooner or later." He rolled his vivid green eyes and sighed. "Avery, Travers, Malfoy, Nott, and Rookwood were waiting. They attacked us immediately, and during the chaos, Malfoy managed to summon You-Know-Who. At some point—I honestly don't know when—Snape appeared. I had been disarmed, and my wand had been broken in the process." His voice turned bitter, and Hermione couldn't stop the small sympathetic noise she made. She knew how much his wand meant to her friend.

"He pulled me from the fray and apparated the two of us away to an abandoned building somewhere . . ." The Chosen One sighed again and pulled a vial from his robes. Hermione immediately identified the silvery, swirling substance within as memories. "He gave me these, told me to lay low for a while, and that he'd answer my questions in a month's time if I returned to where we were. Then he disapparated."

"What was in the memories?" Hermione asked at once. The dark haired boy squirmed uncomfortably and looked away. Ron was watching the conversation with his mouth slightly open.

"I . . . I don't really want to discuss it. Let me just say that yes, I agree with Dumbledore now. Snape has been our side the entire time."

"Hang on, mate," Ron started, but Hermione cut him off.

"Don't be a fool, Snuffles," she snapped. "Snape is a master Occlumens. He could've done the whole thing to fool you. I refuse to believe you until I've personally seen the contents of those memories!"

The Chosen One mumbled something and looked away, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. Hermione refused to back down, though. "If he really was on our side this whole time, then what's he been doing for the past four years?" she demanded. "Explain that, please."

"I—I can't, Hermione. You just have to trust me."

"I'm sorry, Snuffles. I can't do that right now."

"Hermione . . ." Ron started.

"No! I've got nine people down there who depend on me _every single day_ to get them out alive. That's it; only nine people. That's all that's left for us. You put me in charge of those people, and if you think for one minute that I'm going to let them get mixed up with Snape and all this without knowing exactly what's going on, then you're obviously crazy. Either show me those memories, or else we leave."

"Isn't that a bit much, Hermione?" Ron asked bluntly, but Gryffindor's Prince slowly shook his head. "No, Ron . . . she has a point." He sighed wearily and ran his hand through his hair again. "Look . . . I'll show you everything—_both _of you—but tomorrow, all right? It's been a long day, and I'm exhausted. For now, let's go back and join the others before they start worrying."

"Sounds good to me, mate," Ron said quickly, obviously wishing to head off any other arguments. Hermione pursed her lips, but didn't press the matter. Truth be told, she was just as tired as the boys, and there were some people back at camp that she was longing to talk to.

"All right," she assented. Ron smiled in relief and led the way back to the tents.

* * *

Dinner was a cozy affair, and Hermione felt herself relaxing for the first time in months. Being in the presence of her friends from whom she had been absent so long was comforting, and she was almost able to forget everything that was going on outside the security of their camp. Almost.

At one point during the meal, she saw The Boy Who Lived take Ginny's hand under the table and whisper something into the redhead's ear. Hermione smiled and looked away, giving them what small privacy she could, and finding it heartening that even in the midst of all the strife and terror around them, something so innocent and pure could still blossom.

Soon afterwards, the group slowly dissolved as their supporters made their way to their beds (or the parameters for guard duty). Hermione stayed up well into the night, talking with Ron, Ginny, Neville, Tonks, Lupin, and their fearless leader. There was simply too much to catch up on; they didn't dare put anything too important into writing on the Protean parchment, for fear of it being intercepted.

"How did Hannah die?" Neville asked during a lull in the conversation. Hermione shook her head sadly.

"The same as the others, unfortunately. We'd grown desperate for information and low in food stores, so we risked a trip into a small village for supplies and rumors. There were snatchers around, and once my Polyjuice wore off and they recognized me as 'Undesirable Number Two', the Death Eaters were summoned." She didn't even attempt to keep the bitterness out of her voice as she spoke. Each death, each fight, took more out of her and left her emptier.

"We think it was Yaxley who killed her. They didn't take their masks off, but it sounded like him. We buried her in our camp and left a few days later."

"To Hannah," Ginny said fiercely, holding up her glass of water in a toast. The others joined her and quietly clinked their glasses together. The conversation moved forward, and before too long, Hermione and Ginny made their way to their shared tent.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning abruptly, her nerves humming and alert. A few years ago, she would have taken that as a sign that something was very wrong, but after all she'd been through, it was exactly what she expected.

It struck her suddenly, how paranoid she had become. _Yet another casualty of the war_. She couldn't give it up now; to lose that edge of paranoia, that always-being-prepared-ness, was to essentially ask for death at the hands of the Death Eaters. She wondered suddenly if this suspicion was something she would ever be able to shake, even after the war was finished.

The war hand to end sometime. It _had_ to.

Not liking where her thoughts were heading, Hermione made her way out of the tent and to the very edge of the camp parameters, wanting to double-check the protection wards. Ernie MacMillan was patrolling in the fragile light of the dawn, and dipped his head in a silent greeting as she passed him.

They had warded off a large area for their camp, giving their friends enough room for everything they could desire. Hermione made her way slowly around the edges of their zone, murmuring spells to strengthen their coverage. After a few paces, she knew that what she was doing was unnecessary; The Boy Who Lived had taken care to make sure their protection spells were impenetrable. Hermione felt a brief flicker of pride of his advanced skill.

That was how her best friend found her before breakfast, between two of the designated sentry areas, her hand resting against the invisible wall of fortification, frowning and muttering quietly.

"Hermione?" he asked, sounding puzzled. She didn't answer him, being so absorbed in what she was doing. "Hermione!"

He finally managed to pierce her concentration, and she dropped her hands and turned to face him.

"You've done so well here," she said. "There's something in your defense that I can't place . . . is there another spell you're using?"

"_Fianto Duri_," he answered. "Bill taught it to me. It hardens the protective barrier and strengthens the magic of the wards. Come on, let's go have a look at those memories."

"All right," she conceded, following him back toward the main encampment. "It's lucky Dumbledore left you his pensieve."

* * *

She never would have believed it; what Snape was capable of doing in the name of love. Nothing about the man that she knew inspired romance, but she realized, upon watching the play of memories through the pensieve, that he was most likely the most loving man she had or would ever meet. Hermione was impressed, and convinced. Yes, Severus Snape had fallen tragically in love with Lily Evans-Potter, and had devoted the remainder of his life to protecting her son . . . her _eyes_. It was touching.

"So what now?" Ron asked once they had finished their tour of Snape's mind. Hermione was still processing everything she had learned about the man, and shifting her mind back into the harsh, unrelenting reality of their situation was proving difficult.

"Well," answered the one-time Gryffendor Seeker, "he wants to meet me in a week and talk to me. I have no idea what he's going to say . . ."

"We're going with you," Hermione interjected immediately. She held up a hand to ward off her friend's protests. "I believe what I've seen in the pensieve, Snuffles, but it's still too dangerous. It could be a trap, it could be an imposter . . . it could be almost anything. We've survived this long by being cautious; I don't plan to stop anytime soon."

The boys were silent as they processed her logic. "She's got a point, mate. Maybe we should even take some of our more trusted friends with us."

"Like who?" asked the Boy Who Lived, raising his eyebrows.

Ron shrugged. "I'd say at least Lupin, maybe Tonks or Fred and George from my own group. Who do you rely on most from your own?"

"Arthur, Charlie and Luna," Hermione answered immediately. She turned to look at her best friend, who furrowed his brow and glanced down at the ground.

"It would have to be Bill. Maybe Hagrid . . . or Neville. But—"

"So the three of us," interrupted Hermione, "along with Lupin, Bill and Arthur?"

"—you guys—"

"No, Mum'll go berserk if you send so many of her family members on a mission together. Remember that she was the one who wanted us all split up in the first place."

_"I don't think we should take anyone else!"_

Hermione and Ron looked around at their friend with interest as he raised his voice. "Why not?" Hermione asked.

"Because," came the answer, "what was in those memories . . . it was personal. I don't want to have to share it with everyone in camp, and I don't think Snape would want everyone in the Order knowing about it!"

Hermione sighed. "We don't need to show everyone in camp. We don't even need to show anyone who comes with us. We'll just say that you've been in contact with Snape, and that Ron and I agree with you about him being on our side. These people trust us. They'll follow us."

The Chosen One looked unconvinced, but Hermione turned back to Ron. "All right then, let's say the three of us, Luna, Lupin, and Bill? Do you think six will be enough?"

"Let's make it seven, and bring Neville."

"All right," Hermione assented, before turning her eyes back to her best friend. "Well?"

He studied them seriously for a moment before nodding. "Fine. One week," he reminded them, before leaving the tent and going to join the others.


	3. Negotiation

**Chapter Three – Negotiation**

The next week passed quietly, calmly, and surprisingly enough, without incident. The thirty or so remaining members of the resistance lived off of their stores, and Hermione relaxed slightly, enjoying being in the company of her friends and schoolmates.

The appointed day came swiftly, and the carefully selected group (consisting of the Golden Trio, along with Neville Longbottom, Bill Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Remus Lupin) took hold of an old shoe that had been made into a portkey. Privately, Hermione had always hated traveling by portkey as opposed to Floo Powder or Apparation. However, she didn't say a word as the seven of them clustered around the shoe and were transported to a quiet, lonely hilltop in the English moors. At the base of the hill, Hermione could just make out the silhouette of a small building. She squinted, trying to block out the bright rays of the setting sun, as they followed The Boy Who Lived down to the shack.

"_Lumos_," she murmured as they approached the building. She heard the others do the same as Ron pulled open the door and carefully entered the structure.

"Well, well," came a dry voice once they had all filed in and formed a loose circle around their hero, "The Chosen One decided to come . . . and he brought all his friends."

Hearing Snape's voice in the dark, close range brought Hermione back to her years at school, and she closed her eyes for a moment, almost believing that she was back in Potions class . . .

"I watched the memories, Snape," answered the Gryffindor Prince, "I believe your story, but you'll have to forgive me if I'm not very trusting. I'm sure you can understand why."

Hermione cleared her throat. "I think we should make certain that it's actually him," she reminded her best friend, raising her wand so that she could see her old professor's sallow, hook-nosed face. He sneered at her.

"Right," answered James and Lily's son. He thought for a moment before asking, "In my sixth year at Hogwarts, when you were our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, what did I say when you asked me the difference between ghosts and Inferi?"

"That ghosts are _transparent_," answered Snape. Hermione could almost _hear_ his lip curling in distaste at the memory. She held her wand up higher to examine the ex-head of Slytherin house, and was startled to see a second shadowy form accompanying Snape's.

"Who—?" she started, but was interrupted.

"Do not be alarmed, Miss Granger. He wishes to defect as well," Snape explained icily. When her wandlight glimmered off of a familiar head of white-blond hair, however, Hermione couldn't contain the gasp of astonishment that escaped her.

"_Malfoy_?" she breathed in amazement. Her schoolyard rival sneered at her and moved forward into the weak light of her wand. "Granger," he replied with distaste.

"What are _you_ doing here?" asked Ron rudely. Snape made a tutting noise.

"I see that you're still no good at paying attention, Weasley. Didn't I just explain that Draco also wishes to escape the Dark Lord?"

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by his best friend. "That's enough," said The Boy Who Lived firmly. "We're on the same side now." He drew a deep breath and turned back to his one-time professor. "So. What do you want, Severus? Where do we go from here?"

"If you have a safe hideout, then perhaps we should relocate."

"Not just yet." This came from Lupin, speaking up for the first time since they'd left the encampment. "Forgive us and our skepticism, Severus, but I think that you should tell us _why_ exactly we should allow you and Mr. Malfoy into our hideout, and what exactly you plan to do once we get there."

"As I have already indicated, Draco and I no longer wish to be in the Dark Lord's service. And of course, I'd imagine we have quite a bit of information that you're unaware of. If, however, you are unconvinced of where our true loyalties lie, why don't you consult with your fearless leader? He seems sure of my allegiance."

"So did Dumbledore," murmured Neville from the back of the group. Hermione felt more than saw the other Order members stirring uncomfortably before their hero cleared his throat.

"I trust Snape," he insisted. "I'm afraid I can't reveal the details to you, but perhaps he'll be able to convince you, when we're back at camp and we have the time to talk. As it is, I don't like remaining here—too vulnerable." He glanced up at the Half-Blood Prince, and then at Malfoy. "You two are welcome to join us. Let's go."

He turned and led the group back out into the open air, where a mere band of turquoise on the horizon was all that remained of the sunlight. Hermione shivered and held up the shoe she had kept hold of during the interview. "_Portus_," she said, causing the item to glow blue for a moment. Mutely, she held it out so everyone could grab hold. She noticed that Ron and Neville both clutched their wands and kept their eyes fixed on the newcomers.

"On three then?" asked the Chosen One. "One . . . two . . . _three._"

* * *

They landed in a jumble and a mess of bodies on the outskirts of their camp; as close to the protective wards as Hermione could get them. "Quickly," she whispered, murmuring a countercharm for the abjurations and ushering everyone through to safety. "We'll get settled in the mess tent and then continue our conversation."

"Who goes there?" yelled a guard, approaching the party at a run. Hermione raised her ignited wand and identified Seamus Finnegan, with his wand concentrated on her and the others.

"It's just us, Seamus," said The Boy Who Lived wearily. "Go back to guard duty – we'll let you and the others know when we're ready to have a conference."

"First things first," Seamus replied, his wand steadily fixed on the group. "In Charms class, first year, what object did I set fire to, and what was it put out with?"

"A feather," came the answer promptly, "and I beat it out with my hat. On Halloween morning. Can we go now?"

"If you say so," the Irishman said, narrowing his eyes and examining the group closely. His jaw clenched when his dark eyes moved over the newcomers.

"Guard duty, Seamus," Hermione reminded him firmly, before moving toward the mess tent. The others trooped along behind her, moving as quietly as possible through the dark night. Luckily, they didn't meet anyone else on the way to their destination.

The canteen was blissfully deserted when the group assembled there. Ron popped the Deluminator – his gift from their late headmaster – and sent orbs of light levitating around the canvas structure. Snuffles settled himself in one of the chairs and motioned for the others to join him as Hermione flicked her wand to summon some tea for everyone.

"All right, Severus," The Chosen One said once they were all seated and sipping their tea. "What do you have for us?"

"Years' worth of information," Snape said, his eyes glittering with malice, "information that may potentially lead to the downfall of the Dark Lord. However, before I disclose anything unto you, I feel as though we should negotiate terms."

"Terms?" Ron asked blankly. "What d'you mean, terms?"

Hermione couldn't keep herself from rolling her eyes at her friend's idiocy. Malfoy smirked in derision as Snape turned to the redhead, his lip curled with distaste. "Our terms, Weasley – what we demand in payment for jumping ship from the winning side and coming to help an unorganized group of misfits attempt to take down one of the most powerful wizards of all time."

Hermione flushed in anger, and she could hear Bill growling softly to her right as she clenched her fist around her wand.

"Enough," Lupin said, breaking the tension at the table as the remnants of the Order glared at the two Slytherins. "He wants to negotiate terms, let's focus on that." With a concentrated effort, the werewolf turned to his old classmate and locked gazes with him. "What do you want, Severus?"

The potions master sneered and leaned back in his chair, considering the group before him. "First of all, I want sanctuary here from the Dark Lord and his forces. The fact that you have all been able to survive for so long without being detected is . . . admirable," he admitted. "Second, I want in on all the planning and secret meetings. I was once a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and I have remained loyal all these years."

There was a noise of disbelief to Hermione's left, and she was pretty sure it came from Neville. She was too busy gazing at Snape to check, though.

"I want to choose which missions and forays I take part in. And when the time comes that you mount your rescue mission, I want to be able to alert certain trusted friends so that they may join our ranks. In exchange for all of this for myself and Mr. Malfoy, I offer you my services as a potions master, both of our skills as Occlumens and Legilimens, two more recruits, and all the information we have picked up from the Dark Lord in the past three years."

Hermione looked around at their leader, whose face was indecipherable, his green eyes calculating. "Give us a few moments, Severus," he murmured after a minute or so of reflection. The older man inclined his head and turned to his younger protégée as Gryffindor's Prince motioned for the others to draw back with him to talk.

"What d'you reckon?" he asked, his eyes on Hermione's as they huddled at the far side of the cafeteria. Hermione bit down on her lip, still attempting to process everything that had happened today. The appearance of Draco Malfoy had thrown her for a loop.

"He doesn't want anything unreasonable," Lupin said. "You're the one in charge now, but remember that if we don't accept his terms, he knows where we are, and who's involved with us."

"Not all of us," Hermione murmured. "I think it's fair enough trade—except the choosing his battles. It gives the two of them too much power, and how do we known they'd ever choose to do anything?"

"That's valid," said Bill. "And since they're our informants, we'd be including them in all our meetings as it is. I think we should take what they're offering."

"I don't," Neville stated firmly. "Snape killed Dumbledore. And Malfoy? What's he getting out of this?"

"We'll find out if we take their terms."

Hermione worried her lip between her teeth as her eyes flickered between the faces of her fellows. "Take his terms," she advised, breaking the tension, "but limit their power to choose their missions. They pull their own weight around camp, just like everyone else."

The Triwizard Champion nodded slowly, weighing her words. "That's wise, Hermione. Do we agree?"

Ron and Neville remained silent, but otherwise Hermione's idea was met with approval. "I still don't trust the git," Ron whispered as they returned to the tables. Hermione glanced at her red-haired friend, whose face resembled a thundercloud.

"All right, Severus," The Chosen One was saying. "We accept – to an extent." He repeated Hermione's stipulation to the older Slytherin. When finished, Snape glanced at Malfoy, a glance that spoke volumes. Malfoy nodded, and Snape turned back to the leader of the resistance.

"Very well. Shall we speak now, or would you prefer to wait until tomorrow?"

"Now," answered the Gryffindor firmly. "We want to hear what you have to say."

Snape's black, bottomless eyes never left the face of Lily's son. "I'd like to speak to you alone, first off. There are certain things . . . that I would prefer not to divulge to the entire camp just yet."

"Fine," was the calm answer. "We can speak in my own tent." He turned to the others. "Hermione, I'm leaving you in charge – have someone start dinner and then set the duty roster for this week. All of you stick around after dinner, and we'll get down to business." Running a hand through his hair in weariness, he turned and led Snape from the tent, leaving silence in his wake.


	4. Antagonism

**Chapter Four - Antagonism**

"All right, you heard him. Let's get down to business," Hermione said, taking charge immediately. "Bill, Neville – you two are in charge of getting Snape and Malfoy set up with sleeping arrangements. Luna, you and I can start on dinner, and Remus—check everyone on patrol and make sure our wards are still intact. Ron, Malfoy, you're both free for now. Dinner will be served here in forty-five minutes." She turned to the food prep section of the tent and began taking stock of their foodstuffs. From the corner of her eye, she saw everyone except Ron and Malfoy leave the tent to perform their various duties. Ron was watching Malfoy through narrow eyes, obviously unhappy with their blond schoolmate's presence. Malfoy glared back for a moment before pulling his wand out and twirling it between his fingers lazily.

"We've got some chicken left," Luna said, pulling Hermione back to the task at hand. "We can have baked potatoes, and maybe some salad?"

"Sounds perfect," Hermione answered. "I'll start on the potatoes if you can do the chicken?"

On the other side of the tent, Ron had leaned forward, his arms crossed over his chest, to glower at Malfoy, and the blond had been resolutely ignoring him. As she supervised the cooking of the potatoes, Hermione eyed the two boys wearily. The last thing she wanted to do right now was deal with a confrontation, but knowing the two parties before her . . .

Sure enough, Malfoy snapped his head up to glare back at Ron within minutes. "Is there a problem, Weaslebee?"

"Yeah," Ron said aggressively. "I don't trust you, Malfoy, and I don't like having you here."

The Slytherin Prince smirked at the redhead. "Believe it or not, Weasley, your lack of faith comes as no surprise to me, and you'll be delighted to know how little I care about your preferences."

Ron snarled and reached for his wand, but Hermione whipped hers out and leveled it at him. "Ron!"

"Come on Hermione, he's a right git!"

"He was in school, yes," Hermione allowed, her eyes glinting mercilessly as she faced down the boy she once believed herself in love with. "But we're not in school anymore. This is much more serious. Please, don't rise to his baiting. He's only doing it to be obnoxious."

Malfoy settled back in his chair, smirking. Ron gaped at Hermione for a moment before leaning back in his seat with a grumble. Hermione sighed and returned to work on supper.

Within an hour, the meal was ready and everyone in camp (aside from Snape and his least favorite student, who were still holed up in their conference, and Hestia Jones, Alicia Spinnet, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Ernie MacMillian, all of whom were currently on patrol) had assembled to eat. There were more than a few outbursts of anger and disapproving looks thrown in Malfoy's direction, but Hermione managed to head off any more fights.

"All right, everyone," Hermione said when most of the plates had been cleared, rising to address her comrades, "as you've all noticed, we have a new recruit. He's not the only one, either. Malfoy and Snape have both defected from You-Know-Who's side to join ours." Hermione paused, looking sternly around at the group. Most of the faces were angry, but there were some who looked scared, and others who were incapable of displaying any emotion other than exhaustion from their harsh lifestyle. "I know that this is going to ruffle some feathers," she said bluntly, "I know that we didn't all get along at school. I don't care. We're on the same side now." She looked pointedly at Ron, and then at Malfoy, lounging in his chair and looking for all the world as though he were listening to a speech saturated with his praises. "If anyone has any problems with that," she concluded after a minute, "they can see _me_."

More grumbling broke out as Hermione sat back down, but she ignored it and turned to talk to Ginny.

* * *

An hour later, Hermione sat alone at one of the tables in the Mess Tent, working on finishing the duty roster for the upcoming week. Her best friend had tasked her with the job, but she sincerely hoped that they wouldn't be remaining in the area for an entire week. There were simply too many of them in too close of quarters to even hope to avoid the notice of the Death Eaters. Unhappy though she was, Hermione was practical enough to know that they'd need a few days at least to pick apart Snape's information. With a frustrated sigh, she bent back over the roster to perfect it.

"What a surprise," drawled an uncomfortably familiar voice. "Granger's hard at work long after everyone else has gone to play."

Looking up from her project, Hermione was displeased to see Malfoy take a seat across from her. "What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked in exasperation, her patience for the day all used up.

"Many, many things, Granger, none of which am I likely to get any time soon, I'm sure. Tell me, do you routinely exhaust yourself with all this extra work? Despite the fact that we're no longer at school, and there's no need for you to prove yourself as Little Miss Perfect?"

Hermione scowled across the table at him. "Someone has to take care of the menial details, Malfoy, and you should thank your lucky stars it's not someone as biased as Ron. If it were, you'd probably find yourself doing all the dirty jobs for a few months."

Malfoy sniffed in disdain. "I must confess to being amazed at Weasley's survival. I never would've thought he'd be able to endure all this—much less that he'd become one of The Chosen One's lieutenants."

"Well," Hermione said acidly as she returned to her task, "I never would've predicted that Draco Malfoy would defect from the winning side to join the Undesirables."

The following silence took Hermione by surprise. She was used to Malfoy always having a comeback, and after a few moments she looked up to see a cold, calculating look in Malfoy's grey eyes.

"You don't know what you're up against, Granger," he said in a surprisingly intense voice. "And you can't know what it's like on the other side."

"Why'd you defect, Malfoy?" the witch asked quietly. The Slytherin Prince looked away, his face the detached mask she knew from school. She examined him closely, noting that he looked tired in that way she was entirely too familiar with: the bone-deep exhaustion that all members of the resistance now carried. It was the fatigue of someone who was tired beyond a normal sleepless-night fatigue. His hair was longer than it had been back at Hogwarts, his alabaster bangs hung in his face, and his eyes—with a jolt she realized that his mercurial eyes no longer glinted with that immature malevolence of their Hogwarts days. His silver eyes were deadened, hollow; they showed that lack of light that Hermione knew her own eyes mirrored. After a few moments of awkward silence, she sighed and returned to her work, choosing to ignore her once-enemy.

"Tell me you at least have some sort of plan. You can't all just be hiding out on holiday in the countryside and waiting for The Dark Lord to give up and go home."

"Of course we have a plan," Hermione answered wearily, not looking up from the roster.

"I'm sure it's amazing," he drawled. "I'm also sure that I'll be hearing it eventually, and sooner really is better than later, Granger, so out with it."

"I don't think so, Malfoy. You'll wait to hear it until Snuffles decides you're _ready_ to hear it, and you'll be patient until then." She surprised herself with the iron in her voice. It seemed as though a year after the role of leadership had been thrust upon her by her dark-haired friend, she had picked up a few tricks of the trade.

Malfoy was quiet for a minute, and Hermione chanced a glance up at him. One silver eyebrow was raised in incredulity. "_Snuffles_?" he asked, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. "Of all the codenames he could have picked – 'The Chosen One', 'The Boy Who Lived', even 'Undesirable Number One' – he goes with _Snuffles_?" Malfoy rolled his eyes and tipped his chair back, balancing it on two legs. "Merlin, this whole idea is idiotic. I really shouldn't have jumped ship, should I? _Snuffles_ . . ."

Hermione felt her face heat with anger. "Enough, Malfoy," she said, raising from her chair and gathering her parchment. "You made the decision to defect, and now you have to live it with it, and live by _Snuffles_'s orders. Consider yourself lucky he didn't let Ron kill you on the spot, you arrogant, spoiled ferret." She huffed out the last word and swept from the tent, irritated with herself for letting Malfoy get under her skin.

_He doesn't understand what it means. He can't know what it's like, what our side's been through, or all the losses we've suffered. Malfoy's nothing more than a spoiled elitist who's grown bored with the game and . . . for whatever reason, decided to join the losing side._

She had reached the tent she and Ginny shared with Luna. It was empty at the moment; Luna was on patrol and Hermione supposed that Ginny was with the other Weasleys. She dropped her parchment and equipment onto a small table and threw herself onto her bed. Why _had_ Malfoy joined the losing side? Was this all just a big ploy? Her head whirled with questions she knew she would never find answers for.

_The only thing I can do is trust. In Snuffles—and in Snape—trust that one day we'll be free from all this. _Her mind slipped into daydreams of happier times at Hogwarts and the Burrow, of days spent at home with her parents. The memories played through her mind and eventually became dreams as she slipped off into slumber.

* * *

Hermione awoke to the gentle sound of raindrops. She could tell when she opened her eyes that it was early, before dawn. Ginny and Luna slept in their respective beds, Ginny stirring restlessly and murmuring in her sleep. Hermione quietly dressed herself in her Muggle jeans, t-shirt, and sweatshirt and exited the tent.

The sky was dark and star-strewn, with a faint lightening on the eastern rim alone to show that dawn was not far off. Hermione considered the mess tent before dismissing the idea; it was unlikely anyone else would be there at this hour, and she felt herself in need of real companionship at the moment. She struck out for the outer limits of the camp, hoping someone friendly was on patrol at the moment.

She was in luck; on the north edge of camp stood Tonks, her hair the preferred shade of bubblegum pink, and her cloak pulled tight around her.

"Wotcher, Hermione," she said as the younger witch came to stand next to her. "Can't sleep?"

"I managed a few hours," Hermione admitted, scanning the dark horizon. "It's more difficult to sleep soundly knowing your childhood nemesis is a few meters away from you."

"Mmmm," Tonks answered around a yawn. "It's odd. I haven't seen my cousin since . . . Merlin, I don't even know. I suppose that night on the Astronomy Tower, but aside from that, I couldn't say."

Hermione felt her stomach lurch as she remembered. "That's right, Malfoy's your cousin. I had forgotten."

"It's not something I was proud of," she admitted. "But seeing him here, in our camp now . . . maybe I should be. I suppose we'll see in time."

"I suppose so," Hermione whispered. The two stood in companionable silence as the sun slowly rose over the mountains. The rain continued, the heavy grey clouds blocking out most of the light as the drizzle continued to fall around them.

"There you are," called a voice suddenly. Both witches turned to see Angelina Johnson slogging toward them. "Tonks, I'm your relief. Hermione, our fearless leader wants a word with you in the mess tent."

"Thanks, Angelina," Hermione said. "I'll see you later," she said to Tonks before breaking into a brisk walk and aiming herself for the largest tent in the camp. Inside, Lavender and Fleur had cooked up breakfast and were dishing it out to the witches and wizards who were still streaming into the structure. Hermione snagged plate of toast and a cup of tea and joined her two closest friends at the table they sat at.

"Morning," Snuffles said blearily as Ron nodded, his mouth too full for him to greet her properly.

"How did the debriefing go?" Hermione asked after returning their greetings. "You were in there for a quite a while."

"And I'll be in there for longer today," he said glumly. "There's so much to go over. However, we went over all of the—er—information that was in the pensieve last night, and I'd like for you two to join us today. And I reckon Arthur and Lupin should come." He sighed. "We have to hear everything Snape and Malfoy have to tell us, and then I'm sure it'll take us a few days to dissect the information and come up with a plan. We should probably send some people out for supplies soon, too."

"I was hoping we wouldn't be staying here for much longer," Hermione murmured. "There's too many of us; we're like sitting ducks."

"I know, Hermione," came the answer, "but it's all we can do right now. Besides, people are happy. We haven't all seen each other in ages. It's good for them." He waved a hand around the tent, indicating the other insurgents.

"All right," she conceded, getting to her feet as she finished her tea. "No point in wasting time, then, is there? I'll go find Arthur and Lupin and we'll meet in your tent." She glanced at her watch. "Let's say half an hour?"

"Sounds good," Ron answered, shoveling the rest of his toast into his mouth.

"Bring Bill if you can find him. Or Charlie."

"Charlie's on patrol for another two hours," Hermione answered.

"Just Bill then. I'll see you soon."

Hermione nodded and left the tent, trying to mentally prepare herself for whatever Snape and Malfoy had to say.


	5. Information

****_Sorry about the erratic updating, everyone. I've had a lot of shit going on IRL lately and it's stressing me out, but that's good news for you since writing helps me deal with it. So hopefully I'll be able to get a few more solid chapters up soon for you all.  
Please review; I'm curious to know what people think of the story so far and where it's going. Whether you do or not, you rock for reading!_

* * *

**Chapter Five – Information**

Half an hour later found Hermione, Ron, Arthur, Bill, Lupin, Malfoy, and Snape gathered around a scrubbed wooden table in the tent of the Boy Who Lived. Scattered across the table was the entirety of the scant information the Order had managed to collect so far: a map of the British Isles, used to determine where the next safe location to set up camp would be; Dumbledore's pensieve, filled with silvery memories from the previous headmaster and the current owner of the device; moving photographs of known Death Eaters; the cracked ring of Slytherin, the remnants of Riddle's diary, the false locket, and a sheet of parchment with scribbled ideas on what the remaining horcruxes could be.

"It's time, Snape. We need to know what he's planning."

The former Potions master was silent for a few moments as he considered the young wizard before him. "At the moment," he finally said, "it's not much. His energies are split between recruiting more to join him, letting his Death Eaters out to play and making sure the population stays in line, and trying to find you Undesirables, of course." He paused to draw a deep breath and swiftly look each of them in the eye.

"To the extent of my knowledge, he knows nothing of your plans—or the number of those who have joined you. I have heard him express irritation with his followers and their . . . lack of ability to bring you to him thus far. If you don't know, whenever you are sighted, he personally visits the scene of your appearance after your departure to see if he can find any sign of your location. That he has not been able to yet angers him greatly."

Hermione felt a moment's burning pride in the group's magical prowess and ability to thwart He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"Since the ministry has fallen, he's been quiet. He waits for something to happen. Bellatrix and some others have prompted him to set some bait to draw you out, but they haven't been able to find anything they could use to lure you in." Snape's eyes swept the tent once, quickly, and he shifted in his seat. "I suppose I should also let you know that before he died, Dumbledore entrusted me with the task of getting this safely to you." From somewhere Hermione didn't quite see, Snape pulled the Sword of Gryffindor and laid it on the table. She hissed in amazement and her dark-haired friend slowly reached out to trace the gems on the hilt.

"I don't understand," he finally admitted quietly. "It doesn't appear to be—one of the items we're looking for." He glanced up and met the black eyes of his former teacher. "Did Dumbledore say anything about _why_ he wanted me to have it?"

Snape's lip curled in that sneer he seemed to reserve especially for The Chosen One. "No." The younger wizard frowned and shot Hermione a glance. She nodded, knowing what he meant. As soon she had the time, she could go through the books she'd brought along and attempt to decipher the puzzle of Dumbledore's last gift.

"Are there any other instructions of Dumbledore's that we should know about?" Lupin asked, breaking the silence. "He obviously intended for you to have this sword—are you sure he never mentioned a reason?"

"Never," answered Snuffles. "He did give me . . . information. I'm not sure how, or even if, it relates to the sword."

"Why don't you tell us, and we can attempt to figure it out?" This came from Bill. Once again, green eyes locked on brown ones and Hermione found herself in a silent conversation. She glanced at Ron, who only shrugged, and then back at her best friend.

The knowledge that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had split his soul into seven pieces and hidden them throughout the world was known only to the Golden Trio. Members of Hermione's sect knew that she was researching the existence and current whereabouts of artifacts of the four Founders (mainly Ravenclaw's), but none of them knew why it was important.

_It can't_ _hurt, _she thought, chewing on her lower lip as she met her friend's gaze. _The more people who know what we're looking for, the better. The more people who can finish the job if we're unable to._

With that depressing thought in mind, she nodded slowly. Snuffles exhaled loudly and straightened in his chair. "All right, then," he started, "Dumbledore figured out the way to defeat You-Know-Who."

Hermione watched the others at the table as he told his story of the meetings with Dumbeldore during their sixth year. All eyes were intent on their leader as he spoke. She bit at her lip and wondered if divulging this important information to this particular group was the right thing to do. Snape's face was stoic, betraying no emotion or knowledge of the horcruxes. She moved her eyes to Malfoy.

The question from last night gnawed at her. Why on earth had Malfoy defected to join the resistance? When The Boy Who Lived had finished his tale, Hermione would make sure the Slytherin told his story.

Feeling eyes on him, Malfoy met her gaze and raised one silvery eyebrow. Hating to be caught staring, Hermione moved her eyes back to her best friend as he concluded his tale.

". . . taken care of two of them. The night he died, we had been looking for a third: Slytherin's locket. Unfortunately, it was gone when we arrived at the hiding spot, and had been replaced by this fake one." He tapped the false locket before him. "There was a note left by whoever had stolen it, but other than their initials, we have nothing to go off of. That leaves four more, and aside from Dumbledore's idea that Nagini—You-Know-Who's snake—is a living horcrux, we don't know what the other ones are."

Hermione cleared her throat, drawing all eyes to her. "Dumbledore also had another theory: having already turned one of Salazar Slytherin's surviving relics into a horcrux, perhaps he tried to gather things from all of the founders. There was a memory he had of a younger You-Know-Who attempting to buy a cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff from one of her descendants. It's not much of a lead," she admitted, "but it's all we've got to work with."

"So, the sword of Gryffindor," said Arthur thoughtfully, "is it one of the horcruxes?"

"For some reason, I don't think so," answered the Gryffindor seeker. "I'm assuming Dumbledore had access to it all along; if it was, he would've destroyed the sword instead of giving it to me through Snape."

"I can check it for you," offered Bill. "Just a few spells will tell me whether or not it's cursed."

"That's a good idea," Hermione said, eyeing the sword.

"All right," conceded their leader. "But be careful with it."

Bill grinned wolfishly. "Of course." He reached out and gingerly took hold of the sword. He pointed his wand at it "_Hexium revelio!_" The sword glowed pure white for a moment. They watched him quietly at his work. After little more than quarter of an hour, he lowered his wand.

"It's fine," he explained, sliding the sword across the table. "It's not cursed, anyway. Can't be one of those horcruxes, then, can it?"

"No," Hermione answered slowly. Her mind seemed to be moving extremely quickly and yet slowly at the same time somehow. Ideas were whirring through her head as to the significance of the sword; however, she couldn't squash the feeling of missing something obvious.

"It's a weapon," whispered Malfoy, speaking up for the first time. He watched the sword as though almost afraid of it, but spoke on nonetheless. "Dumbledore left it to you as a weapon."

And with that, the pieces clicked into place. Hermione let out a soft "oh!" of comprehension, and all heads swung toward her once more. "Malfoy's right—it's a _weapon_." She turned to her best friend. "The sword was made by goblins, correct?"

"Yes," he said, confusion clear in his voice.

"And goblin-made blades—they take in only what can strengthen them! Har—Snuffles, don't you see? In second year, you killed Slytherin's basilisk with it!"

The group stared at her, not connecting the dots.

"Basilisk venom!" she said impatiently. "The blade of the sword is impregnated with it—you used a basilisk tooth to destroy Riddle's diary. Don't you get it? _The sword can destroy horcruxes_!"

It was like watching the sun come out from behind a cloud as the comprehension dawned on them all. The looks directed at the sword were looks of awe.

"That's all very well and good," drawled Malfoy, "but what use is the bloody sword if you don't have any horcruxes to destroy with it?"

Hermione saw Ron flushing and sighed to herself, knowing what was coming.

"If it's that easy, Malfoy, why don't _you_ go and find the other ones? At least then you'd be doing something _helpful_."

"Ron," Hermione said warningly.

"Weaselbee, if you and your precious _Snuffles_ can't find the other horcruxes, don't take it out on me. However, I do have some information Scarhead might be interested in hearing."

"What's that?"

Malfoy straightened up, smoothing the front of his black shirt. "Like Snape said, The Dark Lord is staying quiet. His officers, however, have been very busy. They're recruiting, but most of the Wizarding Community has already either joined him or joined you. New Death Eaters have been few and far between lately. However, there are still those who are affiliated with Death Eaters for reasons beyond their control—family obligations, or simply because they were pure-blooded Slytherins." He paused and met the green eyes of his schoolyard rival. "I have friends on the inside who want out. New recruits for you who _may _have more information about what's been going on lately."

Hermione watched The Boy Who Lived as he considered Malfoy's words.

"How many people?"

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly and examined his fingernails. "Ten or so."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and turned to her best friend. He was considering Malfoy's words, she knew. _Ten more recruits_ _. . ._ _well, it would certainly help_, she thought wryly. _But can they be trusted?_

Snuffles caught her eye, and she knew they were thinking the same thing.

"I'll be honest with you, Malfoy," he said bluntly, "I trust Snape, and I can extend that to you because of his vouching. But the idea of inviting ten Slytherins into camp . . . well, I'd welcome the new arrivals, as long as we can be sure they're trustworthy."

Malfoy rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Severus, you wouldn't happen to have any Veritaserum, would you?"

"I have one bottle, but I must warn you that it is not entirely so reliable as you would like—especially if you plan to use it on those who are skilled enough in Occlumency to hide their true feelings from their families and other Death Eaters they may come in contact with."

The Chosen One sighed and rubbed at his face. "Let's get this settled," he said around his hands, "and then break for lunch. I'm starving."

"I doubt it needs to be said," interjected Snape, "but Draco has my support and trust."

Ron snorted. Hermione fought the urge to kick him under the table.

"I must admit, I think they've got a point." This came from Bill. "And who are we to turn down volunteers? We need all the help we can get. Besides, they're both proof that those people who see what's going on up close and personal don't always like it."

"We can't just let anyone in here," argued Lupin. "We've got to worry about security, and spies. I say we find away to make sure everyone's trustworthy before we welcome them into camp."

"Legilimency," Hermione said after a few moments of tense silence. "Legilimency, it's the only way. We've ruled out Veritaserum, but we want a way to get honesty from them before we let them in. Legilimency's the only way. Snape and Malfoy have offered their skills as Legilimens," she added wearily, "so we might as well take them up on it."

"What, have the Slytherins test the other Slytherins to confirm their loyalty?" asked Ron in disbelief. "Hermione, have you gone mad?"

"We've already established that we trust Malfoy and Snape," she retorted curtly. "They're part of the team now. This is something they're good at, and it's a way to solve the dilemma. Do you have another answer?"

Silence.

"We've been in here all morning. If nobody objects, I say we take an hour to eat lunch and think about it. If anyone has any other ideas of how to do this, I'll be glad to hear them then."

There were mutters of assent. Hermione pushed her chair back from the table and stood up with a sigh. Her two closest friends followed her to their feet and out from the tent.

* * *

Upon reconvening and arguing for another three-quarters hour or so, they finally reached a decision regarding Malfoy's cache of Slytherin sympathizers.

"So, we've decided to go," Hermione stated wearily, her head starting to ache from the seemingly-endless back and forth. "The next questions are who makes up the rescue party, and when do they go?" She turned to Malfoy. "Do you have a way of getting a message through to one of your friends?"

He nodded.

"All right, then we need to find a place that would be safe for them to meet and wait for us. Anyone have any ideas?"

They all considered it. "Weren't you saying earlier that we'll need to sortie for supplies soon?" asked Snuffles. Hermione nodded. "Why not combine the two? We'll send a large group out; half can concentrate on getting what we need, the other half can bring the Slytherins in."

"If it comes to that, why not just have Malfoy tell his friends to _bring_ supplies?" Ron asked. Hermione blinked at him, surprised at the simple brilliance of the idea.

"Would that work?" she asked, turning from Ron to Malfoy. The latter shrugged.

"It shouldn't be a problem."

"Let's do that, then. The less time we have to spend outside of camp, the better."

"Who's going on the run?" asked Lupin. Hermione glanced at her two best friends and made a quick judgment call.

"I'll lead it," she said firmly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other two leaders open their mouths to protest, and shook her head to cut them off. "Don't even try," she told them. "Ron, you're too easily antagonized by Malfoy. You'd get mad and potentially blow the whole thing—you're not going. And Snuffles, you're too much of an asset. It's too dangerous for you to go. If it turns out to be a trap or something, _you're_ the one they'd most want to get their hands on. You're too important to the cause to risk it. I'll lead the group."

"Hermione . . ." began their leader, but she made a chopping motion with her hand.

"We're not arguing about this. I'm leading the group." She turned back to the others gathered at the table. "Now, I think it's obvious that Malfoy and Snape should come along. Who else?"

"I'll go," offered Bill. "Fred and George will, too. They were just complaining about how bored they were earlier." He grinned. "It'll be good for them to get out and get some action."

Hermione nodded. "I'll ask for volunteers at dinner; I want there to be enough of us that we can't be overpowered easily, just in case something does go wrong. We can go tomorrow—if Malfoy can get in touch with his friends."

"I'll do it now," drawled the Slytherin, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet.

"Don't forget about the food and supplies. As much as they can bring. Have them convene somewhere unobtrusive, somewhere that won't be crawling with Death Eaters."

"I know, Granger," came the impatient answer.

"All right then," Hermione said. She bit her lip and looked around the table at everyone. "That's settled. We'll leave tomorrow."


	6. Extraction

**Chapter Six – Extraction **

The next morning was nerve-wracking. Hermione had lead many raids and forays out of camp, into Wizarding and Muggle parts of Britain alike, but she had never been so anxious about a trip until now. Even though she hated the immature house prejudice from school, she had to admit that she was wary about inviting a host of Slytherins into her secure and cozy camp life. _Trusting Snape and Malfoy is easier said than done_, she thought grimly as she picked at her bacon and eggs.

The Boy Who Lived had made the announcement the night before and directed anyone who wished to go along to seek Hermione out the night before. The group was going to be made up of eleven people, and they were to meet the Slytherins promptly at 11:30 in the morning, at what Malfoy had described as the perfect place—an abandoned opera house in Avignon, France.

"It used to be a Wizarding Theatre," he had explained, his silvery eyes faraway as they gazed backward in time to the days before the war. "There was always something happening at the _Sonserina_. We'd go every weekend in the summer, and I'd always be running into Blaise or Theo or Pansy there. Everyone in Slytherin House knows where it is, and since it went out of business before fifth year, it's unlikely anyone else will be there. Besides, I figure France is far enough out of the Dark Lord's reach to be safe."

"Is it a Wizarding theater?" she had asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

Malfoy had made a show of rolling his eyes. "Of course it is, Granger. Muggle-repelling charms cover the entire block. They won't be a problem."

She hoped he was right.

"All right, Hermione?" Ginny asked, setting a plate down next to the brunette witch and pulling her from her blank reverie. "What are you reading?"

"This?" Hermione said, closing the book she hadn't really been reading as she ate. "It's _Hogwarts, A History_. I'm still researching Ravenclaw's artifacts, but there's nothing in here." She sighed and took a sip of her coffee. "I'm getting tired of everything dealing with the Founders being shrouded in mystery. I wish there was a way I could talk to them."

Ginny grinned. "Good luck with that. Even if you could, I doubt be able to tell us what's been turned into a horcrux by now."

Hermione glanced sharply at her red-haired friend, who giggled mischievously. "Oh come on, of course he told me about the horcruxes, it was ages ago. Don't be mad at him, I _made _him tell me."

"I'm not mad," Hermione admitted, "just kind of shocked."

"Well, you should ask Luna about the Dia-whatsis of Ravenclaw," Ginny suggested, artfully changing the subject back to the ongoing hunt for horcruxes. "I've heard her mention it before in passing, but I was never able to follow up on it. I suppose the other Ravenclaws might know something about it, too," she added, realization dawning on her face as she remembered the other Ravenclaws who had joined their ranks. Hermione smiled.

"I'll do that. In fact," she said, standing up and tucking her book under arm, "I may just go do so now. I've got a few hours until we leave, and I'm too nervous to eat anything. Better to spend the time researching than doing nothing." She bit her lip as a pang of homesickness washed over her; not for her parent's home (although she did miss it very much), but for Hogwarts and its extensive library. More than anything about the castle, she missed the library.

Of course, she would never _admit_ that to anyone—she could just imagine the look on Ron's face if he knew. The thought made her chuckle, and she bid goodbye to Ginny and left the mess tent with a smile still on her face.

She dropped her book off in her tent before going to find one of the Eagles. Emering from her tent, she ran smack into Malfoy, who was loitering outside.

"Fuck, Granger, don't you watch where you're going?" he asked, rubbing his arm where her elbow had stabbed him.

"I'm not the one who was standing in front of the only way out of an occupied tent, Malfoy," she pointed out. "Speaking of, what are you doing?"

"I was looking for you," he answered slowly, as though he was speaking to an infant. "After the meals I've had here, I told Blaise that food was a definite necessity as far as supplies go, and that we'd gladly take more tents and beds and such things. I wanted to let you know so you could figure out a way to transport everything before we leave."

"Thanks," she said sourly, frowning at him, "but you didn't need to worry. We've got a way to deal with it." Already nearing the outer reach of her Malfoy quota for the day, she pushed past him and continued on her Ravenclaw hunt. Much to her surprise and annoyance, the blond Slytherin trailed after her.

"What are you doing?" she asked wearily as they walked through the camp, internally going over the duty roster she had drawn up a few days previously. Was Mandy Brocklehurst on guard duty now? Or did her shift start in a few hours? Hestia Jones was scheduled to help make lunch, she knew, but Hermione would be out on the recon mission at the time. And since Luna wasn't in their sleeping tent or the Mess Tent, where was she? At least Cho had volunteered to join Hermione on the foray, so she would have a chance to ask her then. Hopefully.

"I'm practicing the Wronski Feint," Malfoy answered sarcastically. "What do you _think_ I'm doing, Granger?"

"If I had any idea, I wouldn't have asked!"

Malfoy huffed irritably. "Weaselbee would rather duel me than answer any of my questions or tell me anything that's going on here, and Scarhead spends his time split between mooning after the She-Weasel or in private meetings with Snape. I just want to know what the plan is."

"We told you the plan yesterday," Hermione said absently as the reached the edge of the small tent city that was their temporary home. She narrowed her eyes to scan the perimeter of their encampment, hoping to see who was on sentry duty, but without luck. With a small sigh, she resumed walking out toward the edge of camp.

"Yes, I remember about the bloody horcruxes. But what about when they've all been taken out? Do you have a plan for then? And what about all those people who aren't Death Eaters or dark sympathizers, but haven't been able to flee yet?"

Hermione stopped short and stared at the blond wizard. "Don't tell me you're actually worried about the well-being of someone other than yourself, Malfoy."

A pale tinge of pink shone on his cheeks as he scowled. "I'm just surprised your idiotic Gryffindor courage hasn't caused you all to do something stupid and heroic to save them yet."

"Well, Malfoy, if we decide to go free all the downtrodden of Britain, you'll be the first to know," Hermione answered sardonically. "Until then, however, I need to find a—_Ravenclaw_!" She emphasized the last word as the edge of the camp came into view, and she spotted Eddie Carmichael standing beneath a solitary birch tree. She sped up to reach him, hoping that Malfoy would lose interest and return to camp, but again she was irritated to find him keeping pace with her.

"Carmichael," Hermione said as she approached him, "I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."

He turned to face her, his green eyes dreamy beneath his sandy hair, and he smiled benevolently. "Of course, Hermione," he said in his slow way. "What did you want to know?"

"Do you know if there are any surviving artifacts of Rowena Ravenclaw's?" she asked pointedly. Malfoy snorted behind her, but she ignored him. Carmichael blinked slowly, and his eyes seemed to contract back into reality as they fixed on her face.

"Well . . . it's something of a myth, but there's the legend of the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. We've been told about it, and there's always an unofficial competition to be the one to find it and return it to the common room, but it hasn't been seen since the days of the Founders themselves."

"I see," Hermione answered, chewing her lip as she considered his words. "And there aren't any other artifacts? Nothing else you've heard of?"

Carmichael shook his head, his face sorrowful. "No, the Diadem was the only thing we've ever heard about for Ravenclaw. You should talk to Luna—she said once that her father was studying the Diadem and had attempted to reconstruct it. She might know more."

"Thanks, Eddie," Hermione said, forcing a smile as she turned to leave. "I'll do just that."

"I don't know what you expected," Malfoy sneered as he once more fell into step with her on her way back to camp. "Asking a Ravenclaw about a _lost _Diadem. Bloody gits. They're impossible to talk to—"

"Enough, Malfoy," she said sharply. "I didn't ask you to come with me, and I don't really care what you think about my research. Now why don't you go annoy someone else until we leave?"

He smirked at her, and Hermione almost saw a glimmer of something lifelike in his deadened eyes as he did so. Almost.

"Because no one else in camp is as fun to annoy as you are, of course," he said extravagantly. Hermione sighed and turned away, hoping very much that he would leave her alone as she sought out Luna.

* * *

"Carmichael was right," Luna was saying as they gathered in the Mess Tent to prepare for their trip. "Daddy is trying to recreate the Diadem, but no, I've never seen it. No one living has."

"And there aren't any other fabled artifacts of Rowena Ravenclaws?"

Luna shook her head. "No, I'm sorry Hermione. The Diadem is the only one I've ever heard of."

Hermione forced a smile as Snape strode into the tent, completing the group. "Thanks anyway, Luna. I'll just have to keep researching it." She turned to face the ten witches and wizards before her. "All right, Malfoy has made contact with his friends who want out, and we're meeting them at the _Sonserina_ in Avignon." She held up a crumpled brown paper bag. "This will take us all there safely, and if we were to get separated, Luna, Bill and I each have a portkey that will bring us back to camp. Malfoy, did you find out exactly how many of your friends we're expecting?"

"Zabini said eight."

Hermione nodded. "All right, eight shouldn't be too hard for us to manage. Wands out, everyone, and let's get going." She waited until everyone had put a hand on the bag before tapping it with her wand.

They landed in a small grove of trees in the heart of the city. Hermione stuffed the bag into her back pocket and looked around with a frown. "Malfoy—" she hissed, but he cut her off.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger. We're meeting them over there," he said, jerking his chin to the east. "This is the apparition point—or was, when the theatre was open. Now it could be anything."

Hermione scowled and motioned for the others to follow as Malfoy led them through a small park toward a large stone structure that had clearly been opulent at one point. They could hear the bustle and hum of city life beyond the building, but there was no one in sight.

"_Homenum revelio_," she murmured, sweeping her wand around her in an arc. The spell swooped out from her and past her friends before dissipating. Her frown deepened as she turned to Malfoy. "There's no one here." Was it a trap? Had Snuffles been wrong to trust Snape and his protégée? Her heart went dry as suspicions flew through her head.

Malfoy was frowning, as well. "I told Zabini eleven-thirty," he snapped. "What do you—"

"_Silence_," ordered Snape. Hermione scowled at Malfoy and turned to face her old professor. He glared at the two of them and pulled a silver pocket watch from his robes to check the time. "It is only eleven thirty-two. Your friends may simply be running late."

Hermione huffed in irritation. Trust Slytherins to hold everyone up. "We'll give them thirteen more minutes," she decided. "If they're not here by then, we'll—"

"Look!" cried Cho, pointing back toward the far corner of the _Sonserina_. Hermione turned to see two approaching figures, cloaked, hooded, and unknown. She raised her wand and licked her lips, ready for anything.

"That's close enough," she said when they drew nearer. Behind them, two more figures rounded the corner. "Who's there?"

The taller of the figures thrust the hood of his cloak back to reveal the dark skin and slanting eyes of Blaise Zabini. Malfoy strode forward, his wand steady on his friend.

"What happened during Christmas Break of our sixth year?" he demanded, his silver eyes glinting. Hermione noted absently that none of her friends seemed to be breathing as they waited for Zabini's answer.

The Slytherin rolled his eyes with obvious irritation. "You took my cousin Lucrezia's virginity while visiting my mother's villa on the Amalfi Coast, you prat. She still asks about you, you know."

Malfoy lowered his wand and smirked deviously. "What can I say? I—"

"Enough, Draco," Snape interrupted again. "If Zabini's proven himself satisfactorily, let's get on with it all, shall we?"

"Snape's right," Hermione said, a dull feeling of unease settling in her stomach. "Let's get out of here."

"Is everyone accounted for?" Malfoy asked as four more figures rounded the corner and joined the group. Zabini nodded in assent.

"Perfect," Hermione said, scanning their surroundings. "Let's pair up and we can apparate out of here." She motioned toward the others to grab a Slytherin and stood back to make sure everyone followed through.

"Did you bring the supplies?" Malfoy asked quietly. Zabini nodded again. "I've got food and enough liquor to get a legion drunk. Daphne and Astoria brought—"

A shrill scream rent the air and Hermione's heart dropped through the soles of her shoes. Cho had selected her partner and reached for him to apparate out, but the mystery Slytherin had hit her with a curse instead. Hermione reacted instinctively.

"_Everte Statum_!" she cried, flicking her wand at the offending person. One of the Slytherin girls screamed in fright and threw herself, trembling, toward Malfoy, who pushed her behind him and raised his wand.

The sky darkened overhead with the dreaded black clouds that were the harbinger of the Death Eater's arrival. Hermione glanced around at the others. The other Slytherins had flocked to Snape, while the Order members had drawn up around Hermione. She turned to Snape and Luna on her left. "Get them out of here!" she screamed as the first black cloud touched down to reveal Alecto Carrow. Fred fired a curse at him, and the battle was on. Hermione pushed Luna toward Snape, knowing that the other girl had a Portkey and could get the group to safety. "We'll meet you there when we can!"

Luna nodded fiercely and turned to the group around Snape. "All right," she said, pulling a dirigible plum from her pocket, "let's get back to camp."

Hermione turned back to the fray as the group disappeared, just in time to dodge a curse from one of the Death Eaters. Five others had joined Alecto, but Hermione had no time to identify them as she fired spells at them. To her right, someone screamed.

"Granger, we've got to get out of here!" it was Malfoy, of course. Hermione glanced at him quickly as she stupefied Jugson, and was surprised to see that Zabini and another of his housemates had stayed behind to help. "It's only a matter of time before they call for backup!"

He was right, she knew. The sky was already beginning to darken again. She fumbled in her pocket for the beaded bag she carried with her everywhere and pulled from it an empty water bottle. "Pull back!" she yelled. The others ignored her, too absorbed in the fight to listen. She swore and chanced a run over to the edge of the forest, where her friends were using trees as cover from the onslaught of spells. She threw herself behind a rowan tree just as someone fired a killing curse at her and let out an explosive breath.

"Good of you to join us, Hermione," said George with a grin as his twin peeked around the tree at the Death Eaters. "I know you're having fun and all, but I think some of us would like to get back home in one piece."

She made a face at him. "I need to get everyone to pull back so we can go. I'm going to get us some measure of safety. Can you two cover me?"

"Of course," Fred answered drolly. "Lee!" he called, "come help us!"

Hermione turned and rapidly set up some protective enchantments, mumbling spells under her breath. She could hear the jeers of the Death Eaters as they fired off curses and hexes, but she ignored them.

"Any minute now, Granger!"

"Let's go! Pull back, Order, to me!"

Malfoy and Zabini reached her first, continuing to fire spells off at their attackers, who were drawing closer. Right behind them came Fred and George, then Bill and Seamus, supporting a wounded Cho Chang. Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the damage the Ravenclaw had taken. Susan Bones and the unknown Slytherin came in last, while Lee remained outside the circle of protection, attempting to hold the advancing Death Eaters off. Hermione could see two bodies strewn on the ground, a Death Eater and the Slytherin who had attacked Cho to start with.

"Lee, come on!" Fred cried. "Enough, let's go!"

It was too late. As the dreadlocked boy turned to join the group, one of the Death Eaters fired a Killing Curse that struck him square in the back. He crumpled instantly as George howled in horror. Knowing that her protections wouldn't last forever, Hermione activated the Portkey. The last thing she saw before they hurtled through space was the look of satisfaction on Pansy Parkinson's face as she lowered her hood and leered at Lee's broken body.


	7. Relocation

**Chapter Seven – Relocation**

The Portkey dumped them unceremoniously on the grass just outside the protective barrier of their camp. Hermione scrambled to her feet to help Seamus support Cho, who had slipped out of consciousness. Bill was forcibly holding Fred, who was thrashing in anger. Malfoy quickly joined him to help restrain George.

"Gerroff me, let go! Lee! _Lee_!"

"He's gone," Bill said harshly. "He's gone and there's nothing we can do about it. Now, can you come back into camp on your own? Or do Malfoy and I need to Incarcerus you?"

George stopped struggling and pushed Malfoy off of him before storming off toward camp. Fred went slack, but looked mutinous.

"We need to get her to Snape." It was Susan Bones, critically examining Cho's wound. Hermione glanced for herself and gulped to keep from gagging. Half the girl's side was torn away, and she was losing blood at an alarming rate. She nodded firmly. "Let's go."

She raised the wards and let everyone through, commanding Bill to reset them. Padma Patil came running over at the intrusion and leveled her wand. "Prove to me that—"

"Not now, Padma!" Hermione said impatiently. "Where's Snape?"

The other witch seemed taken aback. "He's—he's in the Mess Tent, but I need to verify—"

"Malfoy," Hermione snapped without even thinking, "prove that we're us. We've got to get her to help." She didn't even have time to enjoy the outraged look on his face as she, Susan, and Seamus hustled Cho off to safety.

They deposited Cho on one of the tables in the Mess Tent, where the surviving Slytherins were seated, one or two of them looking nervous. They had all removed their hoods, but Hermione paid them no mind as she watched Snape examine Cho. Susan had been sent to find Fleur, who was particularly skilled in the healing arts, and Hermione had been pleased to see her two best friends and Ginny waiting for them in the main tent.

"Was anyone else hurt?" Ron asked.

"Lee was killed," she answered quietly. "He was holding them off while the rest of us gathered in the safe zone and prepared to Portkey out. Parkinson hit him with an Aveda. The twins aren't taking it well."

Ginny closed her eyes briefly in sorrow and turned her head, while Ron's face registered only shock. Their leader's eyes blazed with angry determination, but he said nothing. The entrance flap of the tent opened, and Malfoy entered, flanked by Zabini and the mystery Slytherin, who had lowered his hood and revealed himself as Theodore Nott.

"You'll pay for that, Granger," Malfoy promised with a scowl. "The Patil bint didn't believe anything I had to say. I had to Confund her just to get through."

"This really isn't a good time, Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth. Snape was _still _examining Cho, and her breathing seemed to be slowing.

"What, just because one of your friends got hurt? We're in the middle of a war, Granger. People get hurt and people die all the time!"

Hermione's rage reached a boiling point. "No one would have _been _hurt or murdered if we hadn't gone to rescue _your _friends, Malfoy!" she shouted. "This is as much your fault as it is anyone else's!"

"Hermione," Snuffles interjected. She ignored him, drawing her indignation with the blond wizard around her like a cloak.

"_Your_ friends—one of whom, need I remind you betrayed us to the Death Eaters and is the reason Cho is on her deathbed!"

Malfoys eyes glittered with a cold light. "That wasn't my plan. I didn't realize Higgs was one of the ones they were bringing, or else I would have told them he wasn't to be trusted." He shot an annoyed look at Zabini, who shrugged nonchalantly.

"I don't know how he heard about it, but he showed up this morning at the meeting point and I just figured he'd had a change of heart."

The silence was broken by Fleur, who had entered the tent during the argument and joined Snape in his examination. Her face was distressed as she turned to Hermione. "I am afraid eet eez no use, 'Ermione. She eez almost gone."

"There's nothing you can do?" she asked in a weak voice. Fleur shook her head. "I am sorry, but ze curse was too powerful. We can make 'er comfortable, but we cannot save 'er."

Hermione let out a silent sob and sat down forcefully in an empty chair. Ron put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Snape eyed her silently for a moment before turning to Zabini. "I trust you were able to bring the supplies Draco requested?"

"I've got everything in here," he said, pulling a small bag from where it hung beneath his shirt. "Undetectable Extension Charm," he added unnecessarily as he thrust his arm in up the elbow and emerged with a bottle of firewhiskey. "Do you have any cups?"

Wordlessly, Snape flicked his wand and summoned a half-dozen glasses from the far side of the tent, which Zabini poured the liquor into. He handed them out to the others with a small nod. Without thinking, Hermione tipped hers back and set the glass down on the table with more force than she intended.

"What's the plan now?" Ginny asked after a minute, her voice quiet. Hermione sighed forced herself to concentrate on their plans for the future, not the pain of losing two more members. _Focus. Breathe_.

"I think we need to separate again."

The reactions were predictable: Ron let out a noise of disbelief and Ginny groaned, while The Boy Who Lived frowned. "Already?"

Hermione nodded. "It's past time. We've been sitting here for entirely too long. We're not getting anywhere with our . . ." she flicked her eyes at the group of Slytherins, who were watching the exchange in silence. ". . . our project." She finished, a dull headache starting behind her right temple. "We need to concentrate on that, and we've already learned that the best way to handle it is by splitting everyone up." Her eyes swept over the Slytherins once again. Their faces were stoic, cold, and arrogant, but Hermione could sense the fear and exhaustion that lay just behind the surface. It was reflected in their leader's eyes when she turned back to him. "I vote we let everyone rest for the remainder of the day, just kind of unwind. We'll have a nice dinner, forget about what happened today, and then tomorrow morning, we can get back to work."

"She's right," Ron said after a minute. "It's been nice to have everyone in the same place for a while, but sooner or later the Death Eaters will find us here. It's time to go." Hermione felt a rush of gratitude for him in that moment.

"Before we get all sappy and . . . well, Gryffindor-ish," Malfoy drawled, his eyes hard, "I want to know who it was that invited Higgs along today and almost got us all killed."

A small honey-blonde witch raised her chin and met his eye. "I did," she said, but the way her voice wavered as she spoke belied any attempt and casualness. "I—I didn't mean to. He's my _cousin_, and he overheard me talking to Daphne about it, so I—" her mouth trembled and a single tear slipped from her eye. The witch sitting next to her, whom Hermione vaguely remembered from her Hogwarts days as Daphne Greengrass, wrapped an arm around the younger girl. The two were so alike that they could only be sisters.

"She didn't mean to, Draco," Daphne said with a frown.

Malfoy sneered. "Don't bother with the waterworks, Greengrass, they won't work on any of us."

Astoria Greengrass raised her head and scowled at him, all trace of remorse gone from her features. Snuffles cleared his throat. "All right, Hermione. Let's figure out where to put our new recruits, and then tomorrow we can all get a move on."

She nodded and turned to the others. "Malfoy, Zabini, I'll need an inventory of everything you were able to bring: food, supplies, clothing, everything. Fleur, Seamus, do what you can for Cho." Her eyes lingered on the dark-haired witch for a minute, her throat tight. "Susan, take someone with you if you go outside of camp, but try to find a spot for a grave and we'll have a ceremony after dinner."

"I'll go with you," Ginny said, her eyes blazing. She gave her boyfriend a quick kiss and led the other girl from the tent. Hermione turned to her best friends as the others slowly shuffled into activity.

"All right, let's go get this all figured out," she said wearily. "We need to split the Slytherins between the three of us and then find three separate areas to jump to." They had decided years ago to not disclose their locations to one another, just in case someone was captured and tortured for information. Even if the Death Eaters were to use Legilimancy or Veritaserum, they wouldn't be able to reveal the whereabouts of the others.

"How many Slytherins just joined us?"

"Seven," Hermione supplied. "So with Malfoy and Snape, that's nine altogether. So we split them up evenly and put three in each group?"

"I don't want three bloody Slytherins on my team," Ron protested. Hermione sighed in frustration. "Ron—"

"We're splitting them up, three on each team," the Gryffindor Seeker interjected firmly. "I don't want to argue about this Ron. In case they _are _up to something, it'll be easier for us to keep watch on them and foil any plots they hatch if we do it this way."

Hermione eyed her friend curiously. "Do you think they're up to something?"

He was quiet for a moment and looked over his shoulder at where they still all sat, talking quietly amongst themselves. "No," he said, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to them. "I think they've had enough . . . just like Malfoy and Snape have."

Hermione was impressed with her friend's ability to forgive and move forward, but Ron clearly wasn't. His face flushed in anger. "Do whatever you have to," he said after a moment, "split them between you two, for all I care. I don't want anything to do with any of them, and I don't trust the lot of them."

Hermione fought the urge to hex him. It took more effort than she expected, but rather than give into temptation, she turned to scan the room. Malfoy, Zabini, and the Carrow twin they had rescued were going through Zabini's bag, cataloguing its contents as she had asked. Nott and Snape were deep in conversation, although Hermione couldn't hear what they were talking about. Daphne Greengrass, another girl Hermione recognized as one of Parkinson's former friends, and a boy she knew had played on the Slytherin quidditch team were speaking softly to one another. Astoria Greengrass sat by them, her eyes flickering continuously to where Malfoy sat with Zabini and Carrow. Fleur and Seamus had been joined by Luna, Goldstein, Padma Patil, Morag McDougal, and Carmichael in their vigil of Cho's deathbed.

"Seamus," Hermione called softly, waving her friend over. "Can you do me a favor?" she asked when he approached. His face was practically radiating anger and thirst for vengeance. He nodded once, jerkily. "Can you go find me Lupin or Tonks? Or both? I need to speak to them." Another nod, and then he was gone.

She turned back to the boys and drew a deep breath. "I think that whatever else we do, we should definitely put Malfoy and Snape with different people. We can let the Greengrass sisters stay together, though."

"All right," their leader acquiesced. "I'll take Snape."

Hermione glanced once at Ron, whose face was set mulishly. "I guess I'll take Malfoy." Her eyes swept over the group of newcomers once again. "Why don't I take Zabini and Carrow, too?"

They were interrupted by the arrival of Tonks and Lupin, both of whom looked politely puzzled about their summons. "You wanted to see us, Hermione?"

"Yes, thank you," she said. "As you can see, we've been joined by the Slytherins. Ha—Snuffles and I agree that we should divvy them all up and put them on separate teams. Ron, however, doesn't trust the lot and wants nothing to do with them. I wanted you here to see if that prejudice applies to your entire sect?"

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "You're asking if we're prejudiced Slytherins? I must be honest, Severus and I were far from friendly in our Hogwarts days, but that animosity has largely faded in light of our current circumstances. And, of course, I wouldn't have made a very good professor if I was inclined to favor houses over the others."

"That's what Snape always did," Ron mumbled.

"Ron!" Hermione said warningly. Lupin's mouth twitched in amusement.

"Well, it's true that Slytherins have the reputation for being nasty," Tonks said cheerily, "but I've grown up surrounded by them—my mum, my aunts, my cousins," she said, gesturing toward Malfoy. "Sure, some of them aren't very nice, but then I've met plenty of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws who weren't the greatest either."

"To answer your question, Hermione," Lupin cut in, "I don't think anyone else in our group would have a problem with it."

"Brilliant," she said. "Will you help to make sure that they're treated _fairly_," she said, glancing at Ron's glowering face, "and not taken advantage of?"

"If you think it'll help," Lupin said with mirth.

"Thank you," she answered in relief. Ron pushed his chair back from the table and stood with a huff before storming out.

"He'll get over it eventually," Snuffles assured her. "Just give him some time."

"That's the problem; we don't have much time for him to adjust to the idea. He's got to realize that we're not in school anymore. He needs to grow up."

"That's a little harsh, Hermione," he said pointedly. With a sigh, he pushed his own chair back and got to his feet. "I'll go see if I can talk some sense into him."

Lupin chuckled as the younger wizard left the tent in search of his friend. "He gets more like his father every day."

"Granger," Malfoy's voice rang through the tent. "We've got your inventory here. Now when's lunch?"

She gritted her teeth as she rose. Tonks laid a sympathetic hand on her arm. "I'll start on lunch for you, if you like."

"Thanks," she answered gratefully. The dull ache from earlier had resumed, even fiercer than it had been. She made her way over to where Malfoy, Carrow, and Zabini were, wishing she could curl up in her tent for a nap, but knowing it wasn't an option for the moment. "What do you have for me, Zabini?"

* * *

An hour after dinner had been served, Hermione and the others stood before a small cluster of trees that grew on the edge of their campsite. Susan had chosen it as Cho's final resting place, and Hermione felt that it was a fitting spot. Lee's body had unfortunately been left behind at the _Sonserina_, and Hermione wasn't willing to send anyone back into danger to find it. The other Ravenclaws, as Cho's closest friends during her time in the Resistance, had all spoken about her, and as she had at Hannah's funeral, Hermione felt the phantom burning of tears that wouldn't fall.

Lupin stepped forward now and waved his wand to inter Cho's body into the soft earth. Hermione watched silently, her jumper clutched tightly around her even though she wasn't cold. As Lupin flicked his wand again and the sod rose up to cover Cho one final time, Hermione marked the location in her heart as she had marked so many places before. _When this is over_, she thought, _I will make sure people know you are here._

"Are you sure you want to leave tonight?" her black-haired best friend asked her quietly as they slowly made their way back to the heart of camp. Hermione nodded. "It's time, Snuffles. We have to keep researching the horcruxes." She gestured at the others around her as they trudged past. "We can't afford to keep losing people. I've already told my group that we're going tonight, and they're all ready."

He nodded sadly and gave her a quick hug before turning into his tent. Hermione let out a long, even breath and turned to grab her belongings out of her own tent. When she had everything of importance, she relocated to the Mess Tent.

Charlie, Arthur, Malfoy, Zabini, Carrow, Pucey, Alicia, Dean and Parvati were already there, waiting for her. "We're just waiting for Luna, Mandy, and Anthony," Arthur said as she joined them.

"They'll probably take a bit. They're still saying goodbye to Cho."

"So where exactly are we going, Granger?" Malfoy asked, his silver eyes locked on her. "And _why _exactly are we going? I thought you Gryffindors would want to stay together as one big, happy family."

"With you and your friends having joined us, Malfoy, we now have thirty-nine people. Thirty-nine is a much more difficult number to hide than, say, thirteen."

"That still doesn't tell me where we're going," he pointed out.

"The sea," she answered simply. Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the arrival of Luna and the other Ravenclaws.

"Sorry we're late," Luna said as she joined them and set her rucksack down. "We're ready to go now."

"Right," Hermione said, grabbing the portkey—a bone from the roast they'd had for dinner—and offering it out to everyone. "Let's get a move on."

The familiar-yet-uncomfortable feeling of portkey travel overtook them, and they were off. After an indeterminate amount of time spinning through space, they landed heavily on grassy ground. The crash of surf rang around them, and the smell of salt air immediately overpowered their senses, lifting Hermione's spirits slightly. She had always loved the sea, and it had always been a calming presence.

"Moher?" Malfoy asked, eyeing the steep cliffs to the west.

"Yes," Hermione answered, pulling a tent from her bag.

"Isn't it a little _touristy_? I mean, we're not on vacation here, Granger."

She tutted with impatience and waved her wand to erect the tent. Arthur and Charlie were already pacing what would be the parameter of their camp, murmuring protective spells. Hermione straightened up and folded her arms to glare at the blond Slytherin. "Malfoy, we know what we're doing; we've been at it for five years. You'll have to trust us."

"Not if I can help it," he grumbled, helping Zabini unpack their tent. Hermione ignored him and turned to the others.

"Okay, I need two of you to take the first watch while I draw up the duty roster." Charlie held up a hand to indicate his willingness to stand guard, and Alicia Spinnet volunteered herself. Hermione nodded her thanks to them and motioned Luna, Anthony, and Mandy to her. "I know I've already spoken to Luna about this, but I need every last scrap of information you have on the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, or any other artifacts she may have left behind. Please think about it tonight and let me know tomorrow if you can think of anything."

"I wish we could help more, Hermione," said Mandy Brocklehurst, pushing a strand of her ebony hair behind her ear, "but we really don't know anything about it. I'll see what I can remember, though."

"I appreciate it. Now I've got to get to that roster. Enjoy your night, everyone."

As the rest of her group dispersed, Hermione turned to gaze out over the sea. The war couldn't go on forever—it just _couldn't_. Despite the events of the day—the attack of the Death Eaters, the losses of Lee and Cho—Hermione felt for the first time in a long time the faint flutter of hope. Maybe it was just her joy of being back at the seaside, but she liked to think that it was something more, and that somehow she would be able to find the answers she was searching for during their stay on the Cliffs of Moher.

After quiet some time, she turned with a sigh and went to start work on the duty schedule.


End file.
